


Mr. Afton Is A [Not So] Patient Man

by Raysine



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abusive William Afton | Dave Miller, Age Difference, Choking, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Spanking, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Pseudo-Incest, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader is 18, William Afton being a creep, reader has very deep seated daddy and mommy issues, reader is kinda brainwashed, reader is too innocent for her own good, reader is very clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29937438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raysine/pseuds/Raysine
Summary: This was becoming scary and uncomfortable. Not only was Mr. Afton like a father to you, but no one's seen you like this before.
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller/Reader
Kudos: 32





	Mr. Afton Is A [Not So] Patient Man

For the last two weeks, Mr. Afton hasn't so much as looked at you.

He spoke a few words to you. He may greet you and go straight to his office, where you wouldn't see him again until dinner. Any attempts of conversation over dinner would fall flat, and he would take his plate back to his office and stay there for the rest of the night.

Frankly, you were getting tired of it.

Well, no, you wished you could go and tell him that. You just wanted him to pay attention to you. You knew he was upset, but you hadn't expected this to happen, which in hindsight, you really should have.

And this all started because you ran away from him.

It wasn't your fault you got a little scared. You’ve never had anyone touch you like that before. Hell, you’ve never had someone kiss you before.

It wouldn't be the first time he's done this. He's used this as a punishment before, but he always came back after a few days. But for two weeks? It seemed asinine--even borderline cruel to ignore someone for that long, especially when you claimed to love them.

For now, Michael wasn't home. You were alone at the Afton household, with Mr. Afton in his office just down the hall from Michael's bedroom.

Should you go see him? Should you go apologize? 

You just wanted his attention again. You didn't care what kind of attention, even if he got angry with you--you would take anything she could get. 

Anything. You would do anything for him to just look at you again. Anything, just for him to call you "good girl" again. 

And so you did.

The wood was cold against your bare feet as you crossed the hallway. The house was always a little cold, especially during the fall and winter months, and all you wore was one of Michael's t-shirts and a thin pair of shorts.

It was late afternoon, but today, the afternoon sun hid behind the dark, dreary clouds. The wind howled and whipped through the alpine trees behind the Afton's home, and the wind carried the rain with it, beating against the side of the house and the windows. On normal days, this type of weather felt cathartic. On normal days, Mr. Afton and Michael didn't get along well, but you brought them together, whether it be for movies or for games that you were sure that they both only pretended to enjoy for your sake. 

You could hear your heartbeat, pounding against your chest so hard it resounded in your ears. It echoed off the walls of the empty, quiet house until it was the only thing you could hear, even over the grandfather clock in the living room as it chimed to signify the hour, or even the sound of the wind and the pelting rain just outside.

The soft panic grew with every step you took towards that door, but then it would fade when you stopped, contemplating whether this was worth it or not.

_Maybe he would get over it eventually._

But you knew Mr. Afton better than that. That's where he and Michael were similar--they could both hold a grudge for a really, _really_ long time.

You wished Michael was here instead of at the diner. Unfortunately, the animatronics had issues that needed to be worked out, and so naturally, Mr. Afton sent his son to fix it. As always, anymore.

Mr. Afton always preferred they knocked before they came in, but you knew that if you did, he would just send you away anyway. You couldn't wait for him to come out; he wouldn't stay out for long, and he would proceed to ignore you if and when he did.

It wouldn't be this way if you hadn't run away from him.

If you had just listened to him and did as he said, you wouldn't be in this situation. 

If Mr. Afton truly wanted to ignore you, perhaps he would have kept his office door locked. Instead, it was almost as if he wanted you to come in--it swung open with ease, the hinges creaking against the wooden frame as you stepped uncertainly into the room.

The man in question sat at his desk; a pair of square, thick-framed reading glasses perched over his nose as he slouched over his desk in front of his computer.

He didn't even look at you; whether it was because he was ignoring you or he didn't know you came in, you couldn't know.

Slowly, you closed the door behind you and stood in front of the door. You closed in on yourself, your arms coming in to wrap around your body as you felt the ever-increasing anxiety bubble in your chest that made you want to turn and run.

"Uhm…" you stuttered, your voice so soft it was barely registerable over the sound of the keyboard. "Mr. Af--" 

"Leave. Now," he said dryly, "I'm busy."

You supposed that answered your question. Your heart dropped and your chest ached, rising up your throat and constricting it tight, like a snake slowly coiling around your throat.

"I, uhm..." You fidgeted, wringing your hands in front of you.

"I don't have time for your nonsense right now."

His words gripped your heart like they were long, sharp claws, threatening to rip it out of your chest. You felt the familiar lump in your throat that wouldn't go away no matter how many times you tried to swallow it down.

You didn't want to cry, but you knew it was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

She couldn't hold it in anymore. It weighed in her heart whenever he walked away from her. She missed his pet names, his hugs, the head pats.

You missed him pushing you to call him "daddy" when you spoke to him (although, you weren’t quite used to it and "Mr. Afton" tended to slip out most often. Sometimes, though, you did it just to hear him remind you). 

You wanted to hear him tell you how good you were. You wanted to hear how much he loved and appreciated you.

He couldn't abandon you, right? If you didn't have him or Michael, you wouldn't have anything.

"I'm... I'm sorry if... If I upset you..." Your brittle voice betrayed you, cracking and shattering like hot glass under cold water. "I was just... Scared." You sniffled. "I'm sorry, pl-please don't be m-mad at me anymore. I hate it when... When you ignore me."

Mr. Afton lifted his gaze to her with tightly knitted brows. His facade didn't last long, seeing you shaking, shivering and crying your poor heart out.

How cute. 

And then his eyes drifted downwards, eyeing the shorts barely visible beneath the t-shirt you wore, the t-shirt he recognized as one he bought for Michael a few years ago, showing off her thighs. The t-shirt formed around your breasts, nipples just poking through the fabric. 

And so tempting.

Mr. Afton sighed and he leaned back in his chair, relenting. "Come here, y/n."

You didn't need him to tell you twice. Your hands played with the edge of your shirt, fingering and fisting it in your sweaty hands as you circled around his desk to stand directly in front of him.

For the first time in two weeks, Mr. Afton laid his eyes on you, and relief washed over you despite how your heavy tears betrayed you. 

He pat his thigh once. That was the signal you needed to climb onto his desk chair and settle in his lap, just like he always told you to do. His hands settled on the sides of your thigh, stroking up and down, thumb rubbing circles on your skin. 

"Do you understand why I'm upset?"

"Uhm… Be...because I ran away... And didn't listen to you."

Mr. Afton was quiet. He discarded his reading glasses, tossing them haphazardly onto his desk and he watched her; his hand felt unbearably hot on your cool thigh. 

"Do you want Daddy's attention again? Is that it?"

Slowly, you nodded.

Finally, he grinned--more skin to a smirk--and he laughed, a short, dark chuckle that made your skin tingle as he rode his hand up your thigh, just under your bed shorts. "So desperate for your daddy's attention, aren't you?" A finger caressed the side of your face, slowly, starting from the bottom of her ear down to her jawline. "Such a sweet girl.”

You melted into his touch; you wanted to hold onto him, to hug him while he pet you and told you it was okay, that he wasn't upset with you anymore. 

You didn't like it when he was upset with you.

"Y/n." His stern voice drew you back, and he brushed your hair behind your ear, ever so gently like you were the most fragile of porcelain. "I can give you what you want. You can make it up to me. All you have to do is do as I say. Am I clear?"

"Uhm-"

"You want to be a good girl for your daddy, don't you?" 

Yes. You would be good for him. Anything so he didn't leave you.

"Yes..."

"Good." Mr. Afton dropped his hand and sat back in his chair, looking at you expectantly. "Do me a favor, love. Take off my belt for me."

This wasn't the first time he asked you to do this, nor would it be the last, you were certain. So you didn't hesitate to reach between them to unbuckle his belt. The belt came off slowly, uncoiling from his hips until you held it firmly in your hands.

He took the belt in his hands, folding it over once. "Your punishment starts now."

"I--huh?" You sputtered. Was ignoring you for two weeks not punishment enough?

"I said what I said. So stand up and bend over the desk."

She didn't like where this was going. She's never been punished like this before.

Mr. Afton was the only one who's ever punished you for anything. He's always just ignored you until now.

You didn't like this. You wanted to leave, but you knew if you spoke up, he would just ignore you again.

You didn't want that. Anything but that.

Instead, you obeyed. You stood and turned to face the doorway.

"And take that big shirt off. It's in the way."

"B-but--"

"Listen to me, love. Take it off."

The last thing you wanted was for Mr. Afton to see your body. You didn't want anyone to see your body. You felt enough shame in it every day looking at yourself in the mirror.

But you had also been sexualized for your body since you were a young girl. The number of times you had been shamed by your teachers for wearing age-appropriate clothes just to be sent home. 

And beaten. Degraded. 

Not because your mother cared. She got angry because she had to come home from work to bring you home.

You fisted the bottom of Michael's shirt and slowly began to lift it over your head, and discarded the fabric onto the floor beside you. You hugged your chest, hiding your bare breasts from prying eyes despite facing away from the only other person in the room.

Finally, you bent her body over his desk, the surface cold on your warm skin, enough to make your body shiver.

You just wanted to be good for him.

"Good girl," he said in approval, almost in a purr. She felt a wetness pool between her legs. "Now, stay put." He pulled your shorts and your panties down your ass and down to your ankles, leaving you bare and presented to him. 

You felt his hands on you again, starting from between the shoulder blades that forced you farther onto the desk, pressing your cheek against the wooden surface. And then down, down the length of your spine and over the curve of her waist, on your hips, and onto the round of your ass. He rubbed and kneaded, squeezing the flesh in his hands.

"M-Mr. Afton--"

"I didn't say you could speak." Mr. Afton's voice ripped through the air, like the ripping of fabric, immediately silencing you. You clamped your mouth shut, your face burning with shame.

This was becoming scary and uncomfortable. Not only was Mr. Afton like a father to you, but no one's seen you like this before.

Or even touched you like this before--

**_Crack!_ **

Thick leather connected with fragile skin and you wailed, tears beading your eyes. It stung, leaving a heat and an odd tingling sensation where the belt impacted with your ass.

**_Crack!_ **

"M-Mr. Afton," you cried, scratching at the desk's surface for anything to hold onto, anything for leverage, to find nothing but the palms of your hands for your nails to dig into. 'I-I can't take it, it hurts!" 

"You wanted my attention, didn't you?" He asked, almost mockingly, "you will take what I give you without complaints. Is that clear?"

You were silent, sniffling as your tears smeared across the desk. "Yes."

"Yes, **what**?"

**_Crack!_ **

He struck you again. You screamed and cried, and your legs shook from the pain, threatening to buckle beneath you. 

"Daddy! Yes, daddy--God, it hurts..." 

You wanted to be good for him. You would do anything just to keep his attention, just to hear him call you "good girl" again. 

Mr. Afton hummed behind you. "Will you be good for daddy from now on?"

**_Crack!_ **

You sobbed. "Yes. daddy--"

"Yes, daddy, **what**?"

**_Crack!_ **

_Even if it was this._

"I'll be good, daddy! I promise I will, _please--_ "

But you didn't know how much more you could handle. 

"There we go," he cooed. You heard the belt clatter to the floor, and his calloused hands ran over the welts marring your skin, as if coaxing them away. The stinging pain soon went away, but the heat felt like a fire on your ass. "You did so well, love. Are you ready for the next part?" His hands left her body. You so badly wanted to say no. You didn't know how much longer she could last.

It already hurt so bad. 

"Yes, daddy," you said quietly, defeated.

He didn't respond. You heard the shuffling of clothes, and then his hand was on your, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. 

Something fleshy pressed against you. You gasped and you jumped, moving your hips forward to try and get away from it.

It was short-lived. He pushed against your back, keeping your body still and bent over his desk and he grabbed onto your hips again, jerking your body back into position and pressing against your backside. "Look at that," he said, the head of his dick pushing against your hole. "You're so wet for me. Have you been waiting for this? Naughty **girl**." He plunged inside of her in one fluid motion right down to the base.

You choked on a scream, muffled by the fat of your arm she shoved into your open mouth. 

Anything to keep his attention. Even if that meant letting him deflower you.

Mr. Afton let out a low, pleasured moan as he drew his hips back, slowly, letting you feel every dip and ridge of his cock until he reached the tip. "Such a good girl," he said breathlessly, "You take your daddy's cock so well." He thrust into you again, and again; they were slow at first, allowing you to accommodate for just a moment. 

It shouldn't feel as good as it did. 

And then he slid out. He spun you around by your hips, guiding you back into his desk chair as he sat back in it.

The man was half-dressed, leaving himself in only his dress shirt and his tie while his slacks and his underwear were left on the floor.

But you couldn't help but eye the cock between his legs. You had never seen one before, and although it was only average in length and girth, it appeared awfully big to your virgin mind.

That thing had just been inside of her?

"Stop gawking and come here, love." 

You obeyed, once again. You mounted herself onto the chair, over his now naked legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

"There, just like that." 

He took control again, using his grip on your hips to guide you downwards as you sank down on him. You whined, your nails scraping against his button-down. 

"M-Mr. Afton--" 

And he plunged inside of you again, hard but slow, drawing out cute whimpers from you every time he pulled out, but debauched moans when he thrust back in.

You were cute like this, dare he say even _sexy_ , looking at him with big doe eyes and your face contorted in pleasure 

He eyed your body; your breasts bounced and jiggled when he fucked up into you. He caressed and he groped your body, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers, before dragging his hands down the curve of your waist.

Your skin, so soft under his hands.

He rammed his cock into you, making you gasp and arch your back; his hands wrapped around your frail throat.

"You just had to come into my office like that, didn't you, love. Did you do it on purpose?" 

He tightened his hands, just enough to allow you to breathe. 

"In nothing but a t-shirt and those little shorts. Not even a bra. Showing your cute little tits through your shirt and getting daddy hard."

His hand squeezed your throat, tighter and tighter, cutting off your air supply. You gripped helplessly at his arms as he fucked you stupid, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

_He wasn't going to hurt you._

"Begging for daddy's attention like a whore begging for a cock in her cunt."

You didn't do it on purpose, but if you could speak, you would have told him you had.

You could barely form a cohesive thought, certainly not enough to think through anything he was saying.

"Daddy's going to give you his cum now--"

In you? No--he couldn't. What if...? 

"Of course, you don't get to cum yet. That's a reward for later."

You shook her head, trying to shake his hand from your throat but he only squeezed tighter, totally cutting off your air supply and keeping you still. 

He fucked into you harder, and harder, his breathing labored and his fingers closed in on your throat.

You could feel it, the numbness in your fingers, and the weakness that washed over you. Your heartbeat slowed, and your eyes slipped shut.

His face tightened. He chuckled, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. "Such a good girl. You love your daddy, don't you?"

_Yes._

"Enough to let him fuck you, to let him cum in that cute cunt of yours, hm?" You could tell he was terribly--painfully--close from the way his voice lifted. "Fuck--" 

He choked on a moan and slammed his hips against yours, and his eyes looked at you with a hidden kind of ferocity, bordering on amusement, as he watched you slowly begin to slip away, almost as if he enjoyed it. 

With only a few more slow, languid thrusts, Mr. Afton milked himself dry before he finally removed himself, leaving you feeling cold, empty, and his cum oozing out of you uncomfortably as you gasped for air.

For a few moments, you sat in silence with only your labored breathing to fill that silence. His hands caressed your body again, up and down your waist and your hips.

But fear gripped your heart, harder than the grip he just had on her neck. You wouldn't even be able to look Michael in the eye after this.

Mr. Afton pet your hair, smoothing out the knots and tangles he created, and you whimpered against him.

"Shh," he shushed you. "Daddy will take care of you, love. Daddy's little girl."

Daddy's little girl you were...

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly might make this into a series
> 
> For requests, visit my Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/raysineii


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